


Anything I Need To Be For You

by HaniTrash



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Actor Steve Rogers, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bodyguard Bucky Barnes, Bottom Steve Rogers, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Minor panic attack, Mutual Pining, Top Bucky Barnes, War Veteran Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:35:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29034030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaniTrash/pseuds/HaniTrash
Summary: Steve Rogers has always loved two things: acting, and his best friend Bucky. When Steve lands the role of a lifetime playing Captain America, he hires Bucky to be his bodyguard. After all, who better to watch over you than someone who's known you nearly your entire life?Bucky has only ever had one weakness in his life: Steve Rogers. When a panicked Steve calls Bucky in the middle of the night, it's no surprise that he's willing to drop everything and fly out to be Steve's bodyguard. After all, who could protect Steve better than someone who has loved him for over a dozen years?Of course, neither of them anticipated what all that time in close proximity would mean after all these years. And when the studio catches wind of the relationship, Steve will be forced to make the ultimate decision: keep his career, or his best friend.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 177
Kudos: 262
Collections: Marvel Reverse Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KOranges](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KOranges/gifts).



> Oh man some days I really felt like this day was never going to happen! I'm so happy to be sharing my final piece for the Marvel Reverse Big Bang with you all! Thank you to [KOranges](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KOranges) for the artwork and all your patience with me getting this done! I hope you enjoy! (and happy late birthday!!!)
> 
> (also daily updates to be posted in full by 1/31/21)

The incessant, irritating buzzing of a phone finally broke through the stupor of sleep and Bucky fumbled around for it, cracking one eye open enough to view the screen. _Steve,_ it said. If it was anyone else he’d simply turn the thing off and send it to voicemail, but… it’s Steve.

“Whazzit?” he grumbled out of a mouth so dry it felt like the Sahara.

“Buck! Why haven’t you called me yet? I sent you a message last night!”

“Time zones,” he grunted, forcing both eyes open. The sun was on the wrong side of the bed. He looked around and realized he didn’t recognize a fucking thing. Steve continued rambling on in his ear, unaware of Bucky’s current situation—not that _Bucky_ even knew what the situ was.

“Hey Steve, gimme ten to call you back, m’kay?” He hung up as he shifted to sitting, not waiting for an answer, not apologizing for interrupting whatever had Steve so amped up. A glance to his side showed him a slim body with dirty blond hair, still soundly sleeping. _Oh, right. The club. The twink that looked_ just _enough like Steve had in high school, when viewed through Bucky’s whisky goggles._ With a sigh, Bucky grabbed his clothes, thankful to notice the opened condom wrappers and wad of tissues on the floor next to his pants. _At least I remembered that part_. He’d still go and get tested again soon, just to be safe. _Gotta stop doing this shit._ He carried his clothes as far across the small studio apartment as he could get, so as not to wake the other man as he dressed, and slipped out the door. 

Once he made it down to the street, he pulled up Maps on his phone to first figure out where the fuck he was and second to find some goddamned coffee before he called Steve back. 

“I’m hungover and in fucking _Chelsea._ What’s up?”

“Why… Why are you hungover in Chelsea?”

“Because I’m a grown ass man who makes bad life decisions when I’m chasing the demons the Army gave me?” There’s a moment of dead silence from Steve. “Sorry,” Bucky says with a sigh. 

_“I’m_ sorry,” Steve replied quietly. “I didn’t know it was getting bad again.” 

“Not your fault. I haven’t exactly been talking about it.” He hadn’t been talking about it _at all_ because the fucking VA counselor they’d sent him to this time around wasn’t worth the fucking paper his degree was printed on, and he’d stopped going months ago. “Don’t worry ‘bout me. I’ll be fine. Always am, right? If the war didn’t kill me, drinking at a gay bar and going home with some rando ain’t gonna do it either. Now, tell me. What’s got you all wound up and calling me at ass-o’clock in the morning?”

“It’s after noon in New York, Buck.”

“Uh huh. And you’re in LA. But you’ve been blowing my phone up for a couple hours now, I checked. So spill.” 

"I got the part!"

"Which… Oh wait, you mean _the_ part? _Arnie? Captain America?"_

“Yes!”

“Oh man, Stevie, that’s awesome! You’ll do great! I’m so happy for you! Fuck, when my head isn’t exploding, you’ve _got_ to tell me what’s in the script. You know that I know those comics inside and out. God, I hope they didn’t fuck it up. They probably fucked it up, who am I kidding? Anyway. That’s so great. You’re gonna be famous for sure now, buddy. Always said one day you’d show the world how amazing you are.”

“Aww, Buck…” 

Bucky _hated_ that his brain could immediately provide him with a mental image of how Steve must look right then, bashful, head ducked, looking up at him through those obscenely long lashes, cheeks and neck all flushed red from blushing at the compliment. It made him feel guilty about the guy he fucked last night. He _always_ felt like he was cheating on Steve whenever he hooked up with someone. The fucked up part was that he and Steve have never been together and he’d never told Steve about his feelings for him, so there was nothing to feel guilty _about._

“I’m real proud o’ ya, Steve. Honest. You’re doing what you always wanted. I’m getting on the subway in a minute, though, cuz I need to go home and sleep at least another few hours before I go to work tonight. I’ll text you later, okay?”

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

_Three months later_

  
  


“Steve? What’s up?”

“Bucky! Hey, sorry, I know it’s the middle of the night—”

“Don’t worry about that, what’s wrong?” Bucky shifted around, sitting up so that he was reclined against the pillows at the head of the bed. It was nearly four in the morning, and Steve was on location in New Mexico, but he could hear the edge in Steve’s voice, hear the panic tinged with exhaustion.

“There—there was an incident. I’m okay!” he added in a rush, though it did little to calm the racing of Bucky’s heart at being woken by Steve’s call. _Least I’m sober and in my own bed this time, so my head is clear._ “But, so, we started shooting a few days ago, remember?” Steve continued. “Well. There was a fan who, uh, didn’t agree with me being cast for the lead, and they got onto set today—”

 _“What?_ Steve, are you— _what happened?”_

“I’m okay, Bucky. I swear. Just a little shaken. They’ve increased security already and Sharon is getting me a bodyguard for when I leave the set. The fan just said a bunch of shit, threw a few things, broke some props is all. Nobody got hurt. I just can’t sleep, and wanted to hear a friendly voice.”

“If they’re saying _bodyguard_ this early then it sounds bigger than what you’re saying.”

“Yeah, I…” Steve let out a long sigh. “I wish you were out here instead of in New York. I’d just hire you as my bodyguard. I know you. I hate the idea of trusting my life to a stranger, but…”

“You got an extra bed or a couch for me to sleep on in that room of yours? Because I can be there tonight.”

“Bucky. I can’t ask you to do that.”

 _“Steven Grant Rogers._ You are my best and only friend. You’re not asking me to do anything. I’m telling you. I’ll be there. It’s not like I’ve got anything keeping me here. I fucking live in my sister’s attic. I have almost nothing of my own to worry about. And I have no qualms about quitting the job I have right now.”

“Are… Are you _sure_ , Buck?”

“I can guarantee that you’ll be paying me a fuck of a lot less than some fancy company or freelancer to come in from LA.” Bucky already had his laptop pulled up onto the bed and was looking at flights. “I’m serious, Steve. I _want_ to do this. Fuck, I’d do it for free, for you. Tell Sharon I’ll need clearance and a ride from the airport to the set. I’m emailing you my details to forward to her. There’s—I’ve got a non-stop out of JFK. I’m landing at three o’clock this afternoon your time.”

“Bucky, I—fuck, _thank you.”_ The relief in Steve’s voice told Bucky that he made the right decision. They stayed on the phone, Bucky rambling on about nonsense and Becca’s kids as he packed his clothes, until he heard the steady breathing and soft snores of Steve finally sleeping. 

When he walked into the kitchen shortly after the kids left for school, his sister looked up, surprise clear on her face. “Well, good morning! Or have you not slept yet?” She handed him a cup of coffee as she eyed him up and down, assessing.

“Nah, it’s been a good week, I stayed home last night and actually went to bed at a decent time. Steve called me early, though, so I’ve been up a few hours.”

“What’s up with him? Everything okay?”

“Ehh, I’m not sure, honestly.” He scratched at his unruly beard as he rummaged through the cabinets for a box of cereal. “I’m gonna go out to the set with him. They’re suggesting he get a bodyguard and I offered.” 

“What about your job here?”

“Becs.” Bucky leveled an even look at her as he abandoned his cereal search in favor of shoving a few granola bars in his pockets. “What grand scheme of my life involves me being a security guard at the fucking _mall_ for the next twenty years? Besides, I’ll make enough to get my own place finally, instead of living here and mooching off of you.” 

“You don’t mooch. You help pay for stuff. And you’re free babysitting.” 

“Can you tell the kids? I’m sorry to just take off like this, but he needs me.”

Becca shook her head with a wry grin. “Still can’t stop yourself from saving him, even after all these years, huh?”

Bucky shrugged as he chugged his coffee. “I gotta squeeze in a haircut before I go. Can’t show up looking like this and claim to be a guard. I’ll text you when I land, okay?” With a quick kiss to her cheek, he grabbed his bags—one carry-on stuffed full, and a suit bag with his single suit and the nicest clothes he had—and headed out the door. 

****

A thoroughly uninterested-looking man stood holding a sign with Bucky’s name on it—well, it said _James Barnes,_ but whatever—just the other side of security and took Bucky’s bags for him after verifying his ID. The ride to the set passed in silence, which was fine with Bucky. He texted Steve to let him know he was on his way, and let his sister know he’d made it safely. 

“Mr. Barnes. Thank you for coming so quickly—though I assure you it was wholly unnecessary.” A stern, no-nonsense woman wearing large sunglasses and with her blonde hair in a tight bun met him outside of a large building labeled _Stage 3._ She didn’t offer her hand, not that Bucky expected it, based on her tone. “You’ll be staying on a separate floor however, seeing as Steve’s contract doesn’t allow for a double occupancy room and we’ve already switched him to an adjoining room with the guard _from the agency_.” Her tone made it quite clear what she thought of Steve hiring Bucky as his bodyguard.

“I’m staying with Steve.”

“Mr. Barnes, we already have a new room—”

“Then cancel it.”

“With all due respect to your relationship with Mr. Rogers, you must understand that it is my job to keep him safe, and having a _friend_ stay in the room with him is simply not acceptable.”

“Oh, and I suppose if he picked up a woman in a bar and brought her back to his room, that would be okay? With all due respect to your job, ma’am, I’ve known Steve since we were kids. We’ve shared beds on field trips in school. We’ve slept at each other’s houses more times than I can count. I know him better than I know myself. And I know the fear I heard in his voice when he called me at two in the morning, the tone that said he was two-thirds of the way to a full-blown panic attack. If you want him functional for the rest of your shoot, I’m sleeping in his room. Put me in that adjoining room for technical purposes if you must, but I’m sure that the couch in his room will be plenty comfortable if there’s only one bed.”

One meticulously sculpted eyebrow raised as they silently stared at each other. Bucky held his arms crossed, bags forgotten at his feet where the driver had left them before pulling away. Eventually, one side of her blood-red lips tipped up. 

“You might still be the right choice after all. Sharon Carter,” she said, holding her hand out.

“Bucky Barnes.” He grinned as they shook hands. 

“We have to be quiet, but we can wait inside for them to be done filming. I’m sure he’ll want to see you sooner than later.”

Bucky nodded and shouldered his bags. “Sounds good.” 

He stuck to the shadows, not wanting to distract Steve while he worked. He’d also never been on a set before and hadn’t known what to expect, so he immediately set about studying the space, taking in the cameras and rigging and green screens and everything else. 

They apparently were filming one of the big action scenes that would have images added in with CGI later. There were people running and jumping and fighting and then suddenly he saw Steve and— _oh_. Bucky had _not_ been prepared for this, hadn’t thought about Steve _in costume_ , and suddenly there’s his best friend, the man he’d been in love with since he was aware that he only wanted guys, and he’s dressed as Bucky’s _all time favorite superhero_ , and— _fuck,_ he’s clean-shaven and Bucky hadn’t considered that, the All-American Hero image that was Captain America, blond hair and bulging muscles and _holy shit Steve is jacked now._ The last time they’d seen each other, Steve had just finished a movie where he had a close-cut beard and buzz cut and was nowhere near as built as he was right now—

Bucky may have made a mistake. There was no way he could handle this without combusting.

They broke to reset some props and adjust various physical effects, and that was when Steve saw him. 

“Bucky!” Steve cried, and the next thing Bucky knew he was being crushed by gigantic arms wrapped tight around his shoulders and his feet were off the floor as Steve lifted him.

“Christ, Stevie!” 

Steve set him down with a laugh, clapping him soundly on his shoulders. “I’m so glad to see you. You look great!” Steve noted the lanyard with identification cards for the set already hanging from Bucky’s neck. “Good, good, you’re all set with that already. Sharon’s great. Thank you, Sharon.” He glanced over at her but immediately returned his attention to Bucky. “We should be almost done for the day. Then I just gotta get changed and we can grab some food.”

Bucky gestured at Steve’s outfit. “No, this is cute, you should dress like this more often,” he said, and then mentally face-palmed himself. Just because Steve looked like walking sex in that head-to-toe spandex didn’t mean he needed to thirst over him so openly. _Way to look like a professional, idiot._

Steve smirked, eyes slowly trailing over Bucky’s body. “Well, we can’t all rock the flower print shirt with jeans and a leather jacket look, now can we?” 

***

Nearly two hours later, Steve finally walked off the set and out of the costuming room. Bucky swallowed and mentally chastised himself once more for ogling his best friend. Steve’s change of clothing wasn’t exactly any better than that absurd collection of spandex. He wore a pair of baggy sweatpants that clung for life to his hips and a plain white t-shirt that hid absolutely none of what had been left to the imagination from the costume.

 _“Jesus,”_ he exhaled softly, and Steve laughed. 

“Yeah, I know. They’ve had me on an insane training program. Looks good, right?” Steve asked, but the blush dusting his cheeks and the way he looked up at Bucky through his lashes told him just how insecure Steve still was about his body.

“Well, when you become famous, just remember those of us who were your friends when you were a twig getting your ass kicked on the playground, okay?”

Steve’s responding grin was genuine. “Like I could ever forget you, Buck,” he said, wrapping his arm around Bucky’s shoulders and dragging him off towards the trailers. “C’mon. I’m starved. Let’s drop your bags off and go grab some food before we head to the hotel.”

They sat across from each other at a long table under a tent after grabbing trays of food—Steve had a mass of vegetables and chicken and rice on his, while Bucky had a sandwich and some chips. Sharon appeared out of nowhere and sat primly at Steve’s side while she went over the filming schedule once more with Bucky. 

“So, just to be clear, next week, Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday evenings—”

“Sharon, do we have to do this—” Steve started, but Bucky overrode Steve’s interruption.

“Ma’am, excuse me, but you and I went over all this just a few hours ago while we were waiting for filming to be done today. I am aware of the schedule. Steve and I will discuss how he wishes to handle security once we’ve had more than ten minutes to talk. I am meeting with your man Bruce tomorrow while Steve films. I told you I would handle it, and I will. That’s what Steve is paying me for.” 

Sharon’s lips thinned to a line as she pressed them together. In his peripheral vision, Bucky saw Steve’s eyes go wide, flitting back and forth between the two of them. Bucky calmly took another bite of his food. Like hell would he let this woman make him look like an idiot in front of Steve. Not when he knew how to fucking _plan,_ and how to gather intel, and how to watch crowds for suspicious activity. He may have never done _personal_ security, but he knew _security,_ and he knew how to protect people. She was just trying to do her job, and Bucky knew that, but she didn’t need to discredit him in the process. And he wasn’t going to sit by and let it happen.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve was a fucking idiot. Everyone had told him he was too impulsive, and he’d never really seen that as a problem. 

At least, not until he’d found himself sitting across from Bucky, watching him stare down Sharon, who was not exactly easily ignored or argued with. 

The problem wasn’t Bucky arguing with Sharon. The problem was  _ how fucking hot it was.  _

Sure, Bucky had always been a bit protective of Steve—it was one of the reasons he’d wanted him as his bodyguard in the first place—but to watch him so calmly shut Sharon down, just  _ dismiss  _ her like he did that first night, had short-circuited Steve’s brain. Steve was a stubborn fuck and even  _ he  _ couldn’t win arguments with her easily. Hell, he hadn’t really even won the “Bucky is my bodyguard” argument. She still had her person come, and sure Steve had liked Bruce well enough, but as far as Steve was concerned, he didn’t need the man. It had taken a week of arguments between Steve and Sharon, a week of pissing contests between Bucky and Sharon, a week of Steve suddenly needing to jerk off each night in the shower back at the hotel because his head was full of fantasies he thought he’d left behind in high school.

Bucky had always been competent, always been capable. The handful of days they’d managed to spend together after Bucky’s return from active duty hadn’t shown Steve just how much his service had changed Bucky. And it wasn’t bad, except for Steve’s dick getting rubbed raw from his juvenile fantasies now brought to gruff, muscled, and scarred life and sleeping on the couch in his hotel room. 

The time in the Army had only made Bucky more confident, and it was clear that he was used to being listened to, used to having his orders followed, used to not being questioned. The kicker was that he was also so fucking  _ diplomatic  _ about it. You could tell that he was humoring Sharon at times when they talked, or when he calmly replied when she was being snotty, not taking the bait and sniping back at her.

It was tenth grade all over again. Bucky, calm, cool, collected, and in charge, and Steve, horny, flustered, and grateful for the presence of his rock. The only difference this time was that Steve was no longer confused, no longer trying to figure out why he liked both women  _ and  _ men, if he had to pick one over the other. Women were great, nice—wonderful, even. Nobody asked questions when he was with women, they provided the ‘straight actor image’ that Hollywood so desired. Women were soft and gorgeous and got Steve flustered and happy, but men... Men were different. They had something Steve couldn’t put his finger on; something he hadn’t stopped craving since the first time he’d been held down and overpowered and had come harder than he ever had in his life. 

Steve was no longer ashamed of his desire for Bucky. He’d have to be dead to not see how Bucky ticked every box on his list—even if he did feel guilty for lusting after his best friend when there had never been any signs that Bucky was even remotely interested in dating Steve.

Steve was in the shower now, hand wrapped around his cock, pumping furiously as Bucky’s laugh and shining eyes played on a loop in his brain.

_ “Tell me about Steve in high school. He says he was a nerd but I’m not buying it,” Natasha had asked Bucky that day at lunch. _

_ “Oh my God, he so was. And he was tiny. Scrawny! But always whip-smart. Always knew whatever I asked him about. Hell, he’s the one who got me through history class, even though I was a year ahead of him. Wait! Let me pull up my Facebook! I scanned some pictures from high school and uploaded them.” _

_ “Oh God, Bucky no, please!” But Bucky was on the other side of the table, and easily avoided Steve’s lunge for the phone. Soon enough, Bucky and Natasha were giggling, cooing over how ‘cute’ Steve had been. Steve had lifted his head from its place of shame in his hands, only to catch Bucky looking at him—and he  _ had  _ to be imagining the way those grey eyes had darkened, but  _ fucking hell  _ why had he forgotten what it did to him when Bucky licked his lips, sucked that bottom one between his teeth and gnawed on it?  _

_ “I hate you both,”  _ he’d declared gruffly, and stormed off to the trailer, only to lock himself in the bathroom and jerk off, much as he was doing again now hours later. He came with a groan, letting his head fall back against the tile while the water ran down his chest, washing away all evidence as it fell from his pulsing cock.

***

Steve knew he shouldn’t be staring, but he couldn’t bring himself to step away, or to quietly close the door between their adjoining rooms. 

Bucky had gone to his room to get dressed for the day after waking to Steve’s alarm. He’d rolled off the couch—literally—while mumbling something about  _ ‘meds’  _ and  _ ‘hot shower to loosen up, gimme twenty-five’  _ and Steve had shrugged on the way to his own bathroom. It was something that happened some mornings. Steve didn’t push, and Bucky didn’t offer up much detail, so he figured it must not be too bad.

It was so much worse than he’d thought.

Steve had first glanced in when he saw Bucky moving, and realized he was stretching. What stopped him dead was his brain trying to process multiple things at once: 

Bucky was doing yoga. He was bending in ways that a man his size just shouldn’t be able to. 

Bucky was only wearing a pair of snug boxer-briefs. At the sight of Bucky’s firm ass, and the tree-trunk like thighs, his brain malfunctioned as he wondered how tightly they’d squeeze his head as he swallowed Bucky’s cock.

But most importantly, Bucky’s left side, shoulder, and back were covered in scars. 

Bucky had told Steve that his discharge had been medical, that he’d been injured when a roadside bomb had exploded and ripped his HUMVEE to pieces, leaving him unable to effectively snipe and perform his job. Steve hadn’t seen the extent of those injuries, though. There hadn’t been any indication in Bucky’s movements that would have made Steve think that Bucky couldn’t move his left arm all the way, or had any restrictions. But watching him grimace in pain as he raised his arms over his head, Steve’s breath caught and his heart seized in his chest.

Bucky completed his exercises, and reached for the open suitcase, grabbing a t-shirt. 

“It looks worse than it feels. It’s gotten a lot better in the past couple of years,” he said softly.

“Jesus, Buck. I had no idea. You never said…”

“Steve. I’m not exactly allowed to talk about what happened. The roadside bomb story is just that… A story. I was captured and tortured. And that’s all I can say without you getting a fuckload of clearance. There’s a reason I’ve been in therapy most of the time I’ve been out.”

Bucky finished dressing and turned to face Steve through the open doorway. Steve knew his mouth was hanging open. Bucky’s game face was back on, Steve could see it in the set of his jaw and the square of his shoulders.

“You… You were  _ tortured?”  _ Steve whispered, as the reality of just how close he’d come to losing Bucky hit him.

_ “Clearance,  _ Steve,” Bucky reiterated. He seemed to take some pity on Steve though, and he scrubbed a hand over his face as he sighed. “I was with a Black Ops team, okay? Most of the shit we did wasn’t even truly sanctioned. And I  _ really  _ can’t say any more than that. Shouldn’t even have told you that much.”

“I…” And what could Steve say? That he didn’t know? Of  _ course  _ he didn’t know, that was the whole point.  _ Nobody  _ knew. What else had happened to Bucky, how much else had he been through that he couldn’t talk about? How much more did Steve not know about his best friend? How much did Bucky need him, and he’d fucked off to LA, took Bucky at his word that he was okay, didn’t see that he was hurting? How selfish had Steve been, when Bucky had literally dropped everything to come to Steve’s side when he’d called?

“You… Sleeping on the couch is making it worse, isn’t it?” he finally managed, settling on the one thing he could try to fix right now.

“‘S what you need.” Bucky shrugged and slid the knife he always carried into the ankle holster, and Steve  _ really  _ shouldn’t find that so hot, but at this point he’d accepted that there probably wasn’t a single thing in the world that Bucky Barnes could do that  _ wouldn’t  _ turn Steve on.

“Buck. You’re right next to me. Just leave the door open. You don’t need to sleep in the room with me. There’s still two months of filming left. Don’t hurt yourself on my account. Besides, how effective will you be at your job if you’re in pain?” Steve hated himself for playing that card, knew it was a low blow. But he also knew that Bucky would always put Steve first, and pointing out that he’d be no good to Steve was probably the only way to get him to stop sleeping on the couch and aggravating his injury. 

Bucky took a deep breath and held Steve’s eyes. “To be perfectly honest, Steve, I knew a month ago that you’d be fine if I slept in my room. I’m in here for me at this point. Since the day I arrived on set, I’ve slept better, even being uncomfortable on these damned couches, being in here with you. I haven’t had a nightmare since I got here, and I was averaging at least one night a week prior to that. And I… I’m afraid to jinx that by being over here.”

Steve half turned and looked behind himself. He knew he was about to shoot himself in the foot, but that didn’t keep the words from coming out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“Well, I’ve got this huge California King bed. Even as big as we both are now, I’m pretty sure we could share and not have a problem.” He heard Bucky suck in a deep breath and willed himself to keep his mouth shut, not start stammering and backtracking or offer explanations that were wholly unnecessary given their shared past. 

“Sure, Stevie. We can try that if you’re comfortable with it.”

Steve turned back to find Bucky leaning in the doorway and plastered a smile on his face, doing his best to look nonchalant, though Steve could still pick out the straining in his voice. 

“‘Course I am, Buck. Why wouldn’t I be? Not like it’d be the first time. And there’s a hell of a lot more room here than that field trip to Montreal, right?” 

“You were a lot smaller on that trip,” Bucky gruffed.

“So was the bed,” Steve shot back. Thank  _ god  _ it had been only an overnight trip, because if Steve had woken to Bucky curled around him again, his sexually confused teenaged brain might have exploded trying to understand why it had felt so goddamned  _ good  _ and  _ right.  _

“Touche,” Bucky chuckled as he pushed off the jamb. “Alright, Stevie. We’ll try it.”

  
  


***

  
  


“Alright, that’s enough, get  _ back,”  _ Bucky snarled, putting his body between Steve and the paparazzi, and  _ fuck him  _ but that growl was fucking  _ hot. _

They were leaving the wrap party, trying to get into the limo, and the push of the crowd had been unexpected. Steve smiled and waved and did his best to not appear as drunk as he was. He made the mistake of stopping to sign some autographs, which had given them a chance to close in. Natasha had appeared at his side, and without thinking he’d wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her temple. The crowd went into a frenzy as Nat turned her head and spoke into Steve’s ear.

“Now you did it. You know everyone is going to think we’re a couple now, right?” 

Steve groaned, even as he felt her smile against his cheek.

“It’s fine. Play it up, the studio will love it. Good press for the movie,” she said. Steve appreciated her calm, and the years of experience she had over him in the industry. He looked down at her, eyebrows raised, even as he plastered a mischievous grin on his face. 

“Yeah? You sure?”

Nat shrugged and leaned into his hold, wrapping her arm around him in return. “Yeah, it’ll be fun,” she said with a laugh. 

The flashes of cameras blinded him, voices raised to a cacophony as everyone thought they were getting the first pictures of a new secret couple. Steve laughed and waved, allowed Nat to lead him toward the waiting limo that they were sharing back to the hotel anyway. He helped her in and followed after, with Bucky and Clint bringing up the rear. Clint was Nat’s bodyguard. Steve hadn’t talked to him much, but he and Bucky got along really well, which was good.

“What the hell was that?” Clint demanded.

“Seriously, Steve. What the fuck?” Bucky agreed.

_ “Pffft,  _ it’ll be fine. Just some fun.” He waved his hand in dismissal. The car went around a bend and Steve slid a bit towards Bucky on the leather seat. He leaned into it, let the momentum carry him, and ended up with his back across Bucky’s chest when the limo started up a steep hill. Head practically in his lap, Steve looked up at the stormy set of Bucky’s face and— _ oh.  _ He hadn’t seen that look since… well, not since high school. Not since Bucky had walked into the debate club practice to fetch Steve for the walk home and found him kissing Maria Hill. He hadn’t understood at the time, but now, Steve’s alcohol-brain was free from the limitations of his rational side, and he read the anger and the hurt clearly. 

Alcohol-brain was also free from acts of self-preservation and restraint.

Steve reached an arm up and cupped Bucky’s jaw with one hand, feeling the muscles beneath his palm clench and the strong jaw shift. “Don’t worry, Bucky-bear. You’ll always be my number one.”

Bucky exhaled a heavy breath before Steve was—not  _ shoved,  _ because Bucky would never hurt him, but forcefully moved, lifted effortlessly and propped up against the far side of the car. 

“Get off me, Steve. You’re fucking wasted.”

Bucky slept in his own room that night, though he did leave the door open.

In the morning, they flew back to LA to stay at Steve’s house together. Steve no longer had a place in New York City, not since his mom had died. Bucky was Steve’s only connection to the area, everything in Steve’s memories classified as ‘With Bucky’ or ‘Before Bucky’ now with no other family of his own. He wasn’t interested in staying in another hotel for a month before their scheduled appearance at a comic convention, and they couldn’t both stay in Becca’s attic. He was more than happy to welcome Bucky into his home—however awkward it was for the first few days after the limo incident.

  
  


***

  
  


Steve’s confidence with women was one thing—once he’d hit his last growth spurt in his late teens and actually put on some muscle, he’d finally gotten attention instead of laughs. Back in high school, even if _ —if— _ Steve had had the guts to say anything to Bucky, why would Bucky have chosen him? The guys that Bucky had dated in school had all been bigger than Steve, stronger than Steve,  _ healthier  _ than Steve. 

But… 

Steve sat in the hammock, sipping a beer and watching Bucky swim laps in Steve’s pool in the late evening sun. His mind replayed the looks that he’d caught Bucky giving him over the past few months. The way he’d look at Steve in his costume, dressed as Captain America in form-fitting bright blue. The way he’d glared at Steve in the limo, hurt and anger and maybe even a bit of jealousy there. And again, at the convention, when Steve and Nat had played up some closeness at the urging of the studio PR team, even though they’d made it clear to all involved that they weren’t actually together. Bucky had been  _ pissed  _ about that.  _ “Makes mine and Clint’s jobs harder, you fucking assholes,”  _ he’d growled, and that really shouldn’t have been hot but it was, and Steve couldn’t help but hope, but wonder, if maybe,  _ just maybe,  _ he might be good enough for Bucky now. 

He just needed to work up the fucking courage to try. 

And if he was wrong? Well, then he was completely fucked, because how could they move on from that? It would be ridiculous of Steve to expect Bucky to stay, to continue being his bodyguard, if he knew Steve wanted him and didn’t want Steve back in return. 

And  _ that  _ was reason enough for Steve to keep his fucking mouth shut. So long as he didn’t drink too much.


	3. Chapter 3

After the months of sleeping in the same room as Steve and listening to his snoring, it felt odd to be in a room by himself. That the room was in Steve’s house, just down the hall from him, didn’t make much of a difference. Bucky enjoyed having more than just four walls to look at, but he still felt an ocean away. At least the nightmares hadn’t returned, which he’d been honestly worried about. He didn’t want to look too closely at why he slept better around Steve. 

Since being home, Steve woke up at an ungodly hour every day and hit the gym in the basement—he needed to maintain his bulk for potential reshoots—and by the time he finished, Bucky would be awake and have breakfast made. In the span of a month, it became frighteningly domestic. Bucky felt like Steve’s roommate, not his bodyguard. It didn’t help that they rarely left the house, instead hanging around playing video games and doing home renovation projects—Steve still loved to paint, and he was putting a mural on the wall in the dining room, while Bucky re-tiled the downstairs bathroom. In the evening, they went running together, lapping around the large gated community several times until they collapsed. Once a week, they went grocery shopping. 

_Domestic_. 

It was driving Bucky insane. 

Not from lack of activity, but from proximity. He felt himself falling more in love with Steve every day, and knew there was not going to be any easy way out of the situation. It was going to end, and it was going to end _badly._ Even the four days they’d just spent in New York for the convention hadn’t helped. Bucky had hoped the whirlwind pace would give him some breathing room, but then the last night in town they’d ended up crashed out together, leaning on each other, exhausted, on his sister’s couch before catching a ride back to the hotel.

Watching Steve and Nat fake some sort of secret relationship hadn’t helped, either. He genuinely liked Natasha, and was still trying to figure out how his life had taken a turn that he was on a first-name-nickname basis with _Natasha Romanoff_ of all people. He didn’t like feeling jealous of something that wasn’t even fucking real. Watching them kiss for filming had been fine—acting was acting, and that was one thing. And sure, they were _acting_ for this, but it wasn’t the same and Bucky did not want to examine it further. He didn’t know what he was going to do for the press tour when that came up in a few months.

“Heya Buck, whatcha doing?” Steve walked into the kitchen wearing a pair of ridiculously tight shorts and a tank top, breaking Bucky from his wandering thoughts and giving him something decidedly more enticing to distract himself with as he stirred the pot on the stove.

“Making haggis. What does it fucking _look_ like I’m doing, dumbass?”

“Looks to me like you’re making something fattening.”

“Looks to me like you could use some fattening,” Bucky muttered under his breath. 

“I heard that.”

“Good. And if you _don’t_ want to eat any of my mom’s famous black forest cake for your birthday tomorrow, then fine, more for me.”

“Like I’m gonna say no to Winnie’s black forest cake.” Steve dragged a finger through the chocolate that Bucky was currently melting for the ganache. “You know it’s my favorite.”

“Really, that’s a shock, what a coincidence that I’m making it,” he retorted dryly. “And get yer paws outta my way.” He swatted at Steve, who managed to evade him easily. He walked backwards with a grin and winked at Bucky, finger stuck in his mouth as he sucked it clean. 

“Out!” Bucky ordered, trying not to let his brain linger on the suggestive image. 

That night, Bucky’s fantasy heavily featured chocolate sauce on Steve’s body as he jerked himself off in the shower, imagining what it would be like to run his tongue along all the hard lines of Steve’s stomach and the soft swell of his ass. He wondered if Steve would be quiet, or if he would make noise for him, cry out, beg and plead for release as Bucky buried his tongue inside Steve’s tight body. Bucky came with a groan, bitten off and buried in his arm as he splattered the tile with his release. 

  
  


***

  
  


“Oh hey, look. Natasha just tagged you in something else for your birthday.” Bucky held his phone out to Steve, who groaned and rolled his eyes. 

“Bucky, _I’m_ not even looking at these today, why are _you?”_

“Because I have to. It’s my job.”

“It’s really not?”

“It really _is?_ Steve, you’re paying me to keep you safe. That means keeping an eye on things that you’re tagged in. Have I looked at every single of the thousands of tags on Instagram today? No. But I’ve looked at several that Sharon has drawn my attention to. She’s got a whole team that keeps an eye out for those things.”

Steve paused with the beer bottle halfway to his lips. It was his fifth of the night, a rare indulgence beyond one or two when he was home. But Bucky had insisted on buying a twelve-pack instead of the usual six _(“Stevie, it’s your birthday. There’s no reason you can’t have some. I know you like your beer. It won’t bother me if you drink and I don’t.”)_ And maybe it had been selfish on Bucky’s part, because the more Steve drank the more he chewed on his bottom lip, the more Bucky caught lingering glances that he was starting to really question the meaning behind, and Bucky knew that drunk Steve had no filter between his brain and his mouth and Bucky maybe, _just maybe,_ could gently prod Steve, try to figure out if there was any chance… 

Steve now eyed Bucky carefully. “Is _that_ why you never drink anymore? Because you think you’re on the job twenty-four-seven?”

Bucky shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much. If something were to happen, and I wasn’t quick enough, or aware enough because I’d been drinking, I’d never forgive myself.”

“What if I told you to take the night off? We’re home, Buck. We’re not going anywhere. I’ve got a top-of-the-line alarm system that you insisted I have installed, and we’re inside a guarded, gated community. I think we’re safe. You don’t need to be on when we’re _home._ Shit, I had no idea you’d been thinking that this whole time. I thought—” Steve cut himself off with a shake of his head and chugged the remainder of his bottle. 

“You thought what?”

“Nevermind.”

_“Steve.”_

Steve sighed and looked down at his hands, fiddled with the label of the bottle. “I thought you weren’t drinking because it had become a problem. Not because I’m paying you,” he mumbled.

“You’re a fucking moron, you know that? I’ve told you a thousand times that you didn’t need to pay me when you weren’t working, but you keep paying me, so I keep working. What else was I supposed to think? I’d be here without the money and you should know better than that. I love you too much to leave you on your own when you need me.” Bucky froze the moment the words fell out of his mouth. Steve froze, too, hands tightening their grip on the bottle as he sucked in a breath. 

Slowly, Steve’s head lifted and his gaze searched Bucky’s face. Bucky held his breath, afraid to move, afraid to say anything before Steve did. The air between them had suddenly grown thick, the tension palpable as Bucky’s heart jackhammered in his ears. Steve shifted, turned sideways in his seat to match Bucky so that they faced each other on the couch, the fireworks they’d been watching in the valley below now forgotten. He swallowed a few times, jaw working as he appeared to try to decide on what to say. Bucky gave him time, let the words he’d let slip work through Steve’s buzz, and felt his heart race when he saw hope flood into the eyes that haunted his dreams.

“You love me?” Steve finally asked, voice cracking, hushed, as if he too were afraid to break the moment.

Bucky swallowed. “I do.”

“As… As a brother? Or… More? As more than a friend?” Steve stammered through the question, and Bucky noticed Steve’s hand clenching and unclenching against his thigh, a nervous habit he’d had since they were kids.

Bucky huffed out a breath. “Yeah, Steve. As more than either of those.” He ducked his head, but kept his eyes on Steve, watching him through his lashes. “But you don’t have to worry about it interfering with my job. I can deal with it. I have been for a long time.”

A small noise escaped Steve, and then he was moving. The heavy weight of Steve’s body pinned Bucky against the back of the lounge. The heat of his hand scorched a fiery brand on Bucky’s neck where Steve held him tight, their bare chests pressed together—and that was something else entirely, how comfortable Bucky felt with his scars on display around Steve and nobody else. The scent of pine and ocean, and the lingering of smoke from cooking on the grill earlier, filled Bucky’s nose. The taste of beer—strong and heady, with faint hints of lemon, _Steve’s_ beer, danced over his tongue as their mouths collided. 

Bucky buried a hand in the short hair at the back of Steve’s head, and arched up into the kiss with a moan. Steve whimpered and rocked against him.

“Steve,” Bucky gasped when they finally broke for air. “What is this?”

“Something I should have done years ago,” he panted. “Christ, Bucky, please, _please_ come to bed with me.”

“God, Steve, have you even done this before? You have literally _never_ mentioned anything about being into guys.”

“Yes, Bucky, please, I have, I—” Steve pressed his forehead against Bucky’s, hands clutching the back of his head as if Bucky was going to disappear if Steve let him go. “I have. I never said anything because I was afraid it would make things weird. I want this. I want _you.”_

Bucky groaned and pulled Steve in close for another kiss. He was not a strong man. Not when it came to Steve. This was either the smartest thing he’d ever done in his life, or he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life. But with Steve in his lap, in his arms, making sweet noises and begging, he knew there was only one answer he’d ever give this man.

“If you think I’m waiting to make it upstairs before I get a taste of you, you’re wrong.” Bucky surged up and pushed Steve back, forcing him to lay on the couch. “Been dreaming about this moment for fifteen years.”

“Buck! We’re—we’re outside,” Steve stammered, breath hitching as Bucky slid his hands under the band of Steve’s shorts and tugged them off his hips.

“As you just pointed out, we’re home. And nobody can see over the fence. Hush.” He kissed his way down the washboard of Steve’s stomach, the tang of salty sweat from the hot day on his tongue. Steve’s hips rocked up and he groaned when Bucky licked at his still-growing cock. 

“Christ, even your dick is an overachiever. Look at you,” he marveled, as he encouraged Steve to full hardness before attempting to choke himself on the monster before him. “Fucking cock of my _dreams_ here, Stevie. Jesus.”

Steve made an embarrassed noise that quickly shifted to a pleasured moan when Bucky wrapped his lips around the fat head and sucked. 

“Don’t know who you been with, baby, but I can _promise_ you that this will be the best blowjob of your life.” Bucky mouthed down the shaft, paying particular attention to the vein running prominently along the side, before dipping his head to suck first one and then the other of Steve’s balls into his mouth.

Steve whined and squirmed beneath him, breathing in stunted gasps and hard exhales. Bucky’s eyes watered as his jaw stretched wide and he fought his gag reflex when he took Steve as deep as he could.

_“Fuck,_ Bucky, oh my _god!”_

Bucky grinned as he pulled off, teasing hot air over Steve’s now-wet cock as he caught his breath. 

“Something wrong, sweetheart?”

“Fuck, I— _jesus christ.”_ Steve cut off as Bucky took Steve fully into his mouth once more, this time setting about his mission, and not just teasing Steve. 

Bucky’s own cock was painfully hard, and he shifted position, drawing one knee up underneath him on the couch and lowering the other to brace against the ground. The hand not wrapped around the base of Steve’s cock slid beneath the band of his shorts, into the space he’d created for himself. Bucky palmed the head of his cock as he teased through the slit of Steve’s, coating his hand with precome as the taste of Steve’s precome coated his tongue.

“Holy shit I’m not gonna—oh my god…”

Bucky hummed to encourage Steve, even as he slowed his pace to draw it out longer. He hollowed his cheeks as he pulled up—not that he had much space inside his mouth to do so with Steve’s gargantuan cock filling him, fat and heavy and hot on his tongue and bumping at the entrance to his throat—and chased his mouth with the hand working Steve’s cock. A glance up the long expanse of Steve’s torso rewarded him with a sight that was downright pornographic: Steve’s flushed face, the spread of crimson extending down his neck and across his chest. Two tight nipples, hard and erect and just _begging_ for Bucky to sink his teeth into them. Steve’s eyes were squeezed tightly shut, long lashes dusting his cheeks as he tipped his head back into the cushion. His arms were above his head, holding the edge of the couch in a deathgrip. His mouth hung open, plush lips red and full and shiny from being licked and worried between his teeth.

Bucky pinched the tip of his cock tightly, the sudden flare of unexpected pain helping to slow the race his body was running towards his own orgasm. 

“Bucky,” Steve exhaled, voice trembling. Bucky could feel Steve trying to get away, trying to avoid coming in Bucky’s mouth. With a growl, he redoubled his efforts, took Steve as deep as he could get him. He swallowed automatically in preparation, and that was all it took to set Steve off. He came with a shout, cock pulsing, shooting down Bucky’s throat as his entire body quivered and his hips jerked. Bucky’s hand flew over his own cock, and it didn’t take many more strokes before he came as well, moaning around his mouthful, which made Steve gasp and twitch some more. 

Neither moved as they both caught their breaths. Bucky was frozen in place, one hand shoved into his own pants and covered in come, the other holding the base of Steve’s slowly softening cock as he licked it clean, grinning each time a swipe of his tongue elicited another hitched breath, another quake in the mass of muscle beneath him. 

Bucky slowly pulled back, peppering kisses along Steve’s thighs and abdomen as he reached for the table.

“Need a napkin,” he husked, voice every bit as raw as his throat felt. But Steve moved faster, and grabbed Bucky’s outstretched hand, bringing it to his mouth.

“Jesus _fuck,_ Steve,” he gasped, eyes wide as he watched Steve lick the come from his hand. 

“Wanna taste you, too,” Steve answered before sucking Bucky’s thumb into his mouth.

A whimper escaped him as he surged forward, moving his hand to cup the side of Steve’s face as he kissed him. 

“Let’s go. Shower. _Now,”_ Bucky ordered, nipping at Steve’s chin. 

“Yes. God, yes.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey so yeah....note the total chapter number change, lol. final chapter will be posted tomorrow. :)

The shower in Steve’s master bath was bigger than the one in the main bathroom that Bucky used, and he’d thought _that_ one was big. The two of them fit comfortably in there together, not that they needed much space when they were glued to each other. Steve had Bucky pinned to the wall, soapy hands roaming his body as they kissed. Bucky’s hands were doing much of the same, sliding up and down Steve’s back and over his ass. 

“Do you have a preference?” Bucky asked, teasing a finger through the swell of Steve’s cheeks. 

Steve whimpered and buried his face in Bucky’s neck, even as he pushed back against Bucky’s hand.

“Oh, sweetheart. Don’t be ashamed,” Bucky soothed.

“People see me and how big I am and just assume I always… I mean, I _have_ topped, once, but it… I mean, it was okay. But when we were kids, when I was smaller… I always wanted to know how it would feel to have you inside me.”

“Jesus, Steve. How the _fuck_ did I never know you were bi? I'd have been fucking you senseless for years.”

Steve moaned into Bucky's neck. “Never told anyone in high school. I already got picked on enough, I didn’t want— _oh,”_ he gasped as Bucky pushed the tip of one finger into the tight ring. “Didn’t want to get beat up _more,”_ he finished. “Didn’t want _you_ to start getting dragged into it too. Everyone joked about us anyway, I didn’t need to fuel the fire— _oh god, yes._ But I gotta keep it quiet, there’s still too much bullshit about open actors and actr—” Steve whimpered as he rocked back and forth, fucking himself on Bucky’s finger, unable to finish his thoughts.

“Been a while, baby?”

Steve nodded against Bucky’s cheek. “Yeah. Bucky, I want—” Steve lifted his head and met Bucky’s eyes. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “When was your last test?”

Bucky’s mouth fell open. “What?”

“I mean, you already gave me a blowjob before we discussed any of this. And I’ve got some of you in me, too. But, I don’t want… I don’t want anything between us. This is _us_. I can find the paper, show you if you want, but I swear I’m clean, Buck. And if you are, too, then… Then I want _all_ of you. Want _just_ you.”

Bucky grabbed Steve by the back of the head and growled into their kiss. “You sure it’s not _my_ birthday?” 

Steve chuckled at the question. “Believe me, Buck. This is absolutely the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten. The one every candle wish has been for since I turned sixteen.” 

“Well, who am I to deny you your birthday wish? Turn around, sweetheart. Let me see what I’m working with, here. Show me that pretty hole.”

The hot water already had Steve’s fair skin pinked up, but the blush that flamed beneath his cheeks at Bucky’s words turned him scarlet all the way down his neck. Bucky noted the reaction, and smirked when Steve ducked his head and turned around, placed his hands against the far wall and stuck his ass out. Bucky stepped forward and grabbed it, kneaded the soft globes gently before stepping directly behind Steve, slotting his cock into the slippery cleft and rocking forward. He wasn’t really hard again yet, not quite ready to go, but he was halfway there and it was enough to tease Steve.

“Bucky,” Steve whined. 

“Shh, sweetheart. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure that you’re good and open for me before I take you. Not gonna do it here, either. I want you on a bed for our first time. Doesn’t mean I can't get started on getting us there while I make sure you’re nice and clean.” 

Steve hung his head, a soft moan escaping him when Bucky slid two soapy fingers back inside of him. 

“There you go, baby. Look so good, this pretty pink hole around my fingers. Can’t wait to see it stretched wide around my cock,” he said, testing his theory about what Steve seemed to like. Steve clenched tight and whimpered. Bucky laughed. “Mmm, you like it when I talk like that, sweetheart?” He placed his free hand next to Steve’s against the mosaic tile and leaned in, blanketing Steve’s back with his body.

“I get tested regularly, sweetheart. Got my last results a week after I came to Albuquerque. You want me to tell you all the things I’ve dreamed about doing to you? How I’d like to fill you with come and plug you up, send you out onto the red carpet like that, make you sit through an awards ceremony knowing you belonged to me?” He twisted his hand and added a third finger as Steve cried out, struggled to answer. 

“Maybe put you in a cage, too, for good measure. Get you one of those remote controlled plugs and tease you the whole time. Get you worked up and dying for it. I want to _own you,_ Stevie. Make no mistake about it. Your face, your voice, your name have been etched on my very _soul,_ sweetheart. You are mine and nobody else’s if we do this. You can’t give me this and then take it back in the morning.”

 _“Bucky,”_ Steve breathed, twisting himself enough to be able to kiss him without dislodging the fingers in his ass. _“‘M yours._ Always been yours.”

“Fuck me, if this is a dream I don’t want to ever wake up.” Bucky brought his free arm across Steve’s chest and settled his hand on Steve’s neck and jaw, holding him in the strained position. His fingers continued to work Steve open as they kissed, until he was hard and couldn’t wait another minute to slip his cock into that tight heat. Steve whined when Bucky withdrew his hand, and he soothed him with kisses down his neck and along the top of his shoulder.

“Shh, baby, I’ve got you. Come on. Let’s take this to the bed.”

They managed to get out of the shower without falling even though they couldn’t stop touching each other and kissing. Bucky snagged a towel from the rack and wiped half-heartedly at their bodies as they made their way to the bed, where they tumbled, still dripping, still entwined. 

“Drawer,” Steve said, gesturing toward the nightstand, and Bucky followed the motion, pulled out a bottle of lube. 

“You sure you want…?” he asked, holding up a condom package.

“Just you, Bucky. Want to feel _you_ inside me, where you’ve always belonged.”

 _“Christ,_ Steve, you can’t just say shit like that. Fuck, why didn’t we figure this out sooner?”

Steve made to roll over and Bucky stopped him with a firm hand on his hip. 

"Absolutely _not._ I want to see your face. Watch you. Hear every sound loud and clear. Don't you hide from me now, sweetheart."

Steve flushed, the crimson spreading down his neck and across his chest as he looked up at Bucky through his lashes. Bucky opened the lube and slicked himself up before slipping three fingers back into Steve, coating him as well. 

“You ever gone bare before?” he asked, positioning himself with his cock pressing lightly against Steve’s rim. 

Steve shook his head. “You?”

And Bucky… He can’t lie. Not to Steve. Not about this. “Not sober. Not on purpose.”

Steve hooked a leg around the back of Bucky’s thigh and rolled his hips, tried to get Bucky to breach his hole.

“Fuck me, Bucky.”

“Unh-uh. Not gonna _fuck_ you, Stevie,” he said, shaking his head. Bucky dropped down to one arm and ran his nose alongside Steve’s, nuzzling him. “I’m gonna make love to you.” He swallowed Steve’s gasp as he began the slow push into the searing heat of Steve’s body, releasing his breath back to him on a shaky exhale as he bottomed out.

Steve’s arms tightened around Bucky as he arched up from the mattress.

“Okay, sweetheart?”

"’M’okay, Buck," he answered, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, and blinking rapidly.

Bucky quickly stilled his hips and let his weight fall onto Steve, covering his body with a reassuring pressure, running kisses along his stubbled jaw as he stroked the still-damp hair off Steve’s forehead. "What is it, baby?" 

"It's just… Just kinda how I always pictured it would be, with us. If we ever—for our first time," he stammered.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Bucky rolled his hips gently, and Steve whimpered.

“Bucky, I—I love you, too. Didn’t say it back and I should have.”

 _“Stevie,”_ he gasped. 

Steve’s hips rolled up to meet his, and Bucky set a slow, languid pace. Their bodies came together in perfect sync; each long thrust like riding a gentle wave while their mouths remained locked together, hands endlessly roaming the expanses of bare skin between them.

_“Love you—”_

_“So much—”_

_“For so long—”_

_“Never thought—”_

Bucky didn’t know who spoke which words, but it didn’t matter. As always, they completed each other, sharing one thought, one feeling, and the world around them ceased to exist as the emotions overwhelmed them both.

_“Bucky, close, I’m—want to come with you.”_

He increased his pace slightly and wrapped a hand around Steve’s cock, using the precome leaking from the tip to smooth his way. Steve clung to him, fingers digging into the scars that for the first time Bucky didn’t mind having touched, and he came with a bitten off curse, chin tipped up to the ceiling and eyes squeezed tight, mouth hanging open. Bucky followed, the clench of Steve’s ass around him both perfect and too much all at once. 

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Bucky kissed and licked along Steve’s neck, nibbled at his collarbones, the tang of sweat and the sweetness of Steve dancing across his tongue as their breathing slowly settled and their heart rates returned to normal. He lifted an arm to reach for the box of tissues and Steve clenched around him. 

“Don’ go,” he mumbled, already sounding half asleep. 

“You really think I’m going anywhere, punk? Need the tissues, that’s all.”

“Mm-nh. Wanna feel it.”

“Jesus.” Bucky laughed incredulously as he kissed Steve. “Gonna make a huge mess of the bed, baby.”

“Don’t care.”

Steve’s eyes finally opened, and Bucky’s heart nearly burst at the look in them. He’d never seen Steve look more at peace, more happy, than he did in that moment as he smiled up at Bucky.

“You’re a menace.”

  
  


~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

  
  


There wasn’t a room or a surface in Steve’s house that they didn’t defile. 

It was as if they were trying to make up for over a decade of time spent pining for each other in as many weeks. 

Steve would wake Bucky with his mouth on his cock, only to rise up and seat himself on it, still open from the night before. He’d be hyperfocused on a spot he was painting, only to find himself face down and bent over the dining room table, Bucky cursing at him about _“standing there with your fucking tongue sticking out of the corner of your mouth, tryin’ to fucking torment me.”_

Bucky, as it turned out, ran his goddamned mouth while they fucked. And Steve? He loved every second of it. Because the more Bucky’s mouth ran, the more riled up he was, the harder he’d fuck Steve. 

Steve started doing yoga with Bucky in the mornings, which ended up with surprising results. The sex got even better as Steve got more flexible. But the first few sessions had ended with Steve a shaking, sweaty mess because he’d been more of a distraction than a support to Bucky, who hadn’t been able to keep his eyes (or his mouth or hands) off of Steve’s body.

It had gotten to the point where Steve didn’t even bother wearing more than a pair of shorts around the house, with nothing underneath. And he no longer questioned where the lube magically appeared from, he just trusted Bucky to be prepared and not hurt him in a way that he wouldn’t like. 

“Buck! We’re supposed to be talking!” Steve gasped, even as he rocked into the press of Bucky’s hand over his dick, his bare back scraping against the side of the swimming pool.

“So talk. You’re the one who started out the conversation by sliding into my arms and giving me a kiss.” 

“The press tour starts next week. Sharon is on the way—”

“Sharon is _here,”_ he heard from above them. “How long has this been going on?” 

Steve could tell from the tone of her voice that she was extremely pissed about what she’d walked in on. It was Steve’s own fault for giving her the alarm code and a key, he supposed, but as the only person on the planet besides Bucky that he trusted, it had made sense. He tipped his head back to look up at her and immediately regretted the action, as Bucky nipped at his now exposed neck.

“‘Bout two months now,” Bucky answered her before pushing himself off and swimming backwards, towards the far end of the pool. He dipped below the surface enough to dunk his head and then rose back up, smoothing his hair away from his face. “Don’t worry, doll-face. The sex might be a new development for us, but I’ve been hiding my feelings for Steve for years. Ain’t gonna impact my job at all.” 

He inhaled sharply, scrunching his face up and fixing Sharon with a cold look as he effortlessly hauled himself from the pool and walked over to their towels. “Get out of the pool, Steve,” Bucky ordered, and Steve realized it _was_ an order, that he’d shifted into the hard persona of what Steve had come to think of as ‘Army Bucky.’ A towel landed on the ground next to his head. “We’ve got business to deal with today, remember?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a CW for a mild panic attack here, after it switches to Steve's pov about halfway through.

“You two need to knock it the fuck off. The studio is breathing down my neck.” Sharon pointed an accusatory finger in their direction, hand wrapped around her ever-present cell phone, as she followed them into Steve’s hotel room. 

“The fuck you talking about? I haven’t done a goddamned thing!” Bucky shouted, anger and irritation getting the best of him as he began pacing.

“Three events now, and _you,_ James, are fucking trending on twitter today.”

“I—what?” He stopped short and looked to Steve, who looked just as confused as he did. 

“Yeah. There is a _lot_ of speculation that you’re together. Not to mention all the people outraged on Natasha’s behalf and saying that Steve is cheating on her.”

“But she and I were never together in the first place!” Steve erupted. “This! _This_ is why I didn’t want to lean into the friendship with Nat as something more. _Fuck!”_ Steve kicked a chair as he stormed past it. “Fix this, Sharon.” He spun around and pointed at her, jaw set, free hand on his hip. “You fucking fix this _now._ I trusted you, I listened to you, and now this is what I get?”

“You have to decide what you want to _fix_. Your career or your personal life. You don’t get both. I fucking told you that. Not with this contract. You know what they expect. Someone who will live up to the image of the character they’re portraying.”

Steve collapsed into the same chair and dropped his head into his hands. Every cell in Bucky’s body screamed to go and comfort him, but he knew that would only set Sharon off more and make the situation spiral. After all, it was _his_ presence that was the problem. Instead, he took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair. 

“Ok, the day _just_ ended. We still have tomorrow and then the premiere tomorrow night. What is trending _already?_ We stopped letting Steve drink before going out there, so he’s not hanging all over me like at the first one. We upped the closeness between him and Nat at the last one. I haven’t touched him _anywhere_ except on his arm or shoulder to lead him somewhere today, because you said people were commenting on me having my arm around his waist or my hand on the small of his back.”

“This time it isn’t you. It’s him.”

“Me?” Steve lifted his head, brow creased with confusion. “What did I do?” The whine in his voice would have been hilarious if it weren’t for the situation.

“You can’t take your damned eyes off him! Every time someone asks about Natasha, you look at _him_ first before you answer. For an actor, your game face sucks, Steve. Sure, his touches have gotten better, but yours have gotten worse. You held the back of his head today, Steve! Christ, just fuck each other tonight, okay? You can stay in the same room if it’ll stop you from looking at him like a lovesick puppy all day tomorrow.”

“Seriously?” Steve asked, and Bucky wasn’t sure if he was asking about the room thing or the touches. Sharon apparently decided that he was asking about the touches, because she flicked her thumb across the screen of her phone and held it out to him. Bucky moved closer to look over his shoulder. There was a tweet displayed with two pictures of them: one from an appearance last week where Bucky was holding his arm around Steve’s waist and standing a bit too close, and one from earlier that day when Bucky had been trying to get Steve into the limo and yeah, Steve’s hand _had_ cupped the back of Bucky’s head, and he was smiling a bit too fondly at Bucky. Beneath it was a caption, and Bucky couldn’t help but snort when he read it.

> _@Shirabby:_
> 
> _Forget playing #captainamerica, Steve Rogers clearly needs to star in a remake of ‘The Bodyguard’ with the hottie following him around because those two are obviously bumping uglies #thebodyguard #steverogers #hottieguard_

  
  


“Okay that’s hilarious, though,” Bucky commented. 

Sharon heaved a sigh, clearly annoyed and exhausted with them both. “You promised me,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You two promised me everything would be fine. I like you James. I do. And yeah, Steve’s mood and energy on set changed for the better the moment you arrived. But if you two can’t fix this, you’re going to have to quit as his bodyguard.”

“And then what? I still have to hide that I’m with him?” Steve asked, and Bucky recognized that tone. It was the ‘Steve is about to get into a fight’ tone. The ‘I’m not going to stand for this’ tone. The tone that invariably meant _Bucky_ was about to get dragged into a fight so that he could drag Steve _out_ of it. But this time… This time he was going to let Steve rage. Because this time it was much more personal, and he was much more invested in the outcome. 

“Not hide. Just… Don’t flaunt it.”

“So, hide.”

“Steve—”

“Sharon, _no._ This is bullshit. If I really _was_ with Nat, it would be absolutely _fine_ for us to be touchy-feely in public. But just because I’m with a guy _,_ I can’t? It’s not right. And I refuse to act like it is. And I certainly won’t pretend to be with someone else anymore to keep up appearances.”

“Can we just get through tomorrow? And then we’ll figure it out?”

“Yeah, fine. Whatever. We’ll see you at oh-eight-hundred downstairs for the limo,” Bucky answered, before Steve could reply. Sharon narrowed her eyes and studied him for a moment. 

“You two come up with a plan for tomorrow. I’m not taking another day of shit from the studio.” She turned on her heel and stalked out of the room. 

“Bucky—” Steve rose from the chair and turned toward him.

“Steve, we have _got_ to be on the same page out there,” he interrupted. 

“Tell me later.” 

Steve closed the distance between them in two long strides, and in the next moment they were pulling at clothing, tumbling to the bed in a tangle of limbs.

“Need you,” Steve breathed between kisses.

“I’m here, baby. I’m here.”

Despite the inferno of need between them from nearly two weeks of nights spent apart since they’d started the tour, Bucky took his time with Steve. He opened him up slowly, lips and tongue worshiping the lines of his stomach, teeth teasing at sensitive nipples. He was careful not to make marks where they might show, but didn’t hesitate to claim him elsewhere, leave one last bit of himself with Steve when the inevitable happened.

After a late-night dinner via room service and a shower, they returned to the bed, even though Bucky knew he wouldn’t get much sleep that night. His heart felt too tight in his chest, too fragile, ready to shatter when struck by the first rays of light peeking through the curtains and heralding not just the start of the day, but the ending of what they’d shared. How could he expect Steve to throw away the rest of his life, the future he’d always dreamed of, just for him?

Bucky always put Steve first. 

He’d convince Steve, when he woke, that it was the right thing to do. They were young, Steve had several years of leading-man-in-an-action-role ahead of him, and he couldn’t take that from him. Not when he’d worked for so long, so hard, to get there. 

Once the promo tour was done, Bucky would find an excuse to move out of Steve’s house and convince him it was for the best if he returned to Brooklyn. 

  
  


~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

Steve woke to the sound of hushed voices and the click of the door. He watched as Bucky placed covered dishes onto the table. Bucky, who was freshly showered and impeccably dressed in his darkest suit (his wardrobe had expanded considerably since joining Steve), and in full ‘Army Bucky’ mode with crisp movements and firm posture. Steve grinned; Bucky always took such good care of him. Bucky would get them through the day. He clearly had a plan, was prepared for what was to come.

His smile faltered when his gaze fell on the tell-tale redness of Bucky’s eyes and slight blotchiness to his cheeks.

Bucky had been crying.

Steve’s heart leapt into his throat as he sat up quickly. “Bucky?”

Bucky’s head snapped up and he looked at Steve, surprise clear on his face. He cleared his throat before speaking. “Hey. Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you. Here’s breakfast. Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll come get you. We have ninety minutes before we need to be downstairs.”

“Bucky?” he repeated, drawing the name out, his tone loaded with all the suspicion he felt. He knew Bucky, knew there were very few things on the planet that could make him cry. Something had to be wrong. Something must have— _oh._ Oh god _no._ His chest heaved as his ears began to ring. He felt the panic rising, threatening to overwhelm him.

“Hey, no, Steve, Stevie _breathe._ C’mon, pal, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Bucky fell to his knees in front of Steve, placed one hand on his chest over his heart as he talked him through breathing exercises that Steve summarily ignored.

“Bucky, why—you—you were— _Buckywhywereyoucrying?”_ The words left him in a rush as he grabbed Bucky’s shoulders, eyes frantically searching Bucky’s face for the answer he already knew was there. 

Bucky sighed and shook his head, eyes closed. “You need to calm down first, Steve. This is why I wanted you to eat and get ready without me here.”

“Right, and waking up alone would have been any better than waking up to see you like this?” He stared at Bucky, trying to figure out what the hell was going on in his lover’s head.

“You need to eat. We won’t get a break until mid-afternoon. And if you’re worked up, you won’t eat.”

“Bucky! Fucking _talk to me!”_ Steve stopped himself short of shaking Bucky, though the urge was there, and he didn’t bother to keep his voice down despite the early hour. Bucky shifted his hands to Steve’s knees and squeezed reassuringly. 

“Later, Steve. I promise. For now, just focus on today. Interviews this morning, back here for a late lunch and to change, premiere this evening and interviews before it. Pictures and shit afterwards, then we can breathe for a day and go from there.”

“You’re leaving,” Steve whispered, feeling like Bucky had just stuck a knife in his gut.

“Steve. I love you. I will wait for you. I waited this long already, right? Don’t throw your shot away just for me. We’ll sort the shit with the studio and you’ll become famous and get everything you’ve worked for and deserve. When this contract is up, and you’re done with the Cap movies, well… We can try again then. If you still want.”

“No, no, no,” Steve said, shaking his head. “No, there has to be another way.”

“Steve. It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out. But I refuse to be the thing that holds you back from your dreams.” Bucky cupped Steve’s cheek and he leaned into the touch, covered Bucky’s hand with his own. Steve leaned in for a kiss, but Bucky shifted and kissed his forehead instead as he rose to his feet. “Get ready, Stevie. Today is a big day.” 

"Bucky, Bucky please. We have to talk about this." Steve nearly fell off the bed as he tried to hold onto Bucky as he walked away.

"Get dressed, Steve. There's nothing to talk about right now. The stylist is going to be here soon."

  
  
  


***

Steve’s eyes darted over to Bucky, who was on the far side of the carpet, eyes on the move, constantly scanning the crowd. To his other side was Natasha: beautiful, fun Natasha, whom he genuinely liked. Tony and Sam were there as well, waving to the crowd and posing for pictures. Natasha had her arm around Steve’s back, and was leaning into his side. For every inch they drew closer, Steve could see the tightening of Bucky’s jaw, even at a distance. 

He hated it. 

He hated pretending that he was straight, like there was something _wrong_ if you weren’t. He hated pretending that there was anything more between him and Natasha than just friendship. A kiss for the movie was one thing; a kiss for fanservice and studio pressure was another. 

“I can’t do this,” he said, leaning into Natasha and speaking directly in her ear.

He’d broken down earlier, during a few minutes of alone time, when they’d been in the green room waiting for their turn on the morning show, and told her what Bucky had said about leaving and waiting for him. 

“I know. It’s okay. I’ve got you,” she answered, smiling up at him—ever the professional. “Do what you need to. I’ll back your play.”

He kissed her cheek and she returned the gesture while the flashes erupted around them. With a deep breath, he stepped away from her and moved toward Bucky. Ever vigilant, Bucky saw him coming and turned to him, hands out, already asking what was wrong before Steve got there. 

“I need to get out of here,” he answered, hoping to do this in private and spare what he could of his career. 

“But the schedule says you’ve got another ten minutes out there. You’re supposed to be answering questions, before we go into the theater—”

Steve didn’t stop though, and kept walking, knowing that Bucky would have to follow him. “Fine, we’ll come back then, I just—I need to talk to you.”

“I told you there’s nothing to talk about.”

“I’m paying you to be my bodyguard but you’ve got a look on your face like you’re about to murder everyone in the damned crowd. So there is _clearly_ something to talk about!” he shot back. Several people in the lobby looked around at his raised voice, and Steve grabbed Bucky by the arm and yanked him into a bathroom. 

“Steve, what the fuck?” Bucky tried to grab for the handle but Steve shoved Bucky away and locked the door.

“I’m choosing you,” he replied.

“What?”

In response, Steve pressed Bucky against the wall and kissed him. Bucky froze in surprise, but it only took half a second for him to catch on to what Steve was saying and then he returned the kiss, arms coming up around Steve’s back, hands fisting the material of his favorite Dolce suit. 

“Steve, what are you doing?” Bucky panted when the kiss finally broke. “Your contract, the studio… You’ll get in so much trouble.”

“Fuck my contract. Fuck the studio. Fuck my _career._ None of that matters if it means I lose you. I love you. _I love you,_ James Buchanan Barnes. I’ve loved you since we were in high school and you stood up to those bullies picking on a geeky theater nerd. I need you to know that, no matter what, I pick you. ‘Til the end of the line. That isn’t gonna change because some asshole executive behind a desk is a fucking phobe. I’m not ashamed of who I am. And I’m not going to let anyone try to make me pretend I’m something I’m not.”

“You’re bi, asshole. You’re not _pretending_ to like women.”

“Yeah, sure. But I refuse to pretend that I’m not with you. That’s what I’m talking about. I won’t let them take you from me. I don’t care if I never get another leading role again and have to become a house painter or some shit.”

“Fuck,” Bucky said, closing his eyes and gently banging his head against the wall. “At the very least I’m gonna have to quit as your bodyguard, Steve. They’re not going to allow it, you know that. Are you _sure_ you want to do this? Potentially throw all this away?”

“We’ll figure out the bodyguard thing. Just—we’ll figure it out. _Together._ Because all of it means nothing if I don’t have you. _You_ are more important to me than money or fame and things I don’t need to survive. I only need _you._ Okay?”

“Okay.” Bucky nodded his head. “Okay,” he repeated. “I’ll go wait outside the door. You—shit, you gotta fix your hair,” he said with a grin. “And your suit. Sorry.” Bucky released his death grip on the back of his jacket and cupped his face. “I love you too. Stupid punk.”

Steve grinned and kissed him again, quick and chaste this time. “Jerk.” 

Bucky cast one last smile over his shoulder at him before he stepped out the door. Steve took a deep breath before splashing some cool water on his face and straightening himself out. Everything was about to change and very little of it would be easy, but he didn’t care. Because no matter what, Bucky would be by his side. And that was all he needed in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!! Come yell at me on tumblr! (or just leave me a nice message ;) )
> 
> <https://hanitrash.tumblr.com/>


	6. Artwork by KOranges!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg. friends. a word of advice. don't post when half asleep!!!! because then you forget to add in the great artwork that was the _entire point_ of you writing the story!!!! *facepalm*


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